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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873773">Expiation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_wellicks/pseuds/r_wellicks'>r_wellicks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elliot Alderson - Fandom, Mr. Robot (TV), Rami Malek - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_wellicks/pseuds/r_wellicks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To those who are indebted to E Corp, the conglomerate is their worst nightmare. The manifestation of a mistake, the proof that evil does exist in the world. However, to others—the rich executives riding on the backs of those underneath them—the company was just another job and necessary for the world. Like many of the residents around her, Malena Ström was tied to the conglomerate E(vil) Corp. </p><p>But it wasn't the in the same way as the others. </p><p>**I originally wrote/published this on wattpad. I’m @wellicks there.**</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elliot Alderson &amp; Shayla Nico, Elliot Alderson X OC, Elliot Alderson/Original Female Character(s), Joanna Wellick/Tyrell Wellick, Tyrell Wellick X OC, Tyrell Wellick/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>❝—<em>I think they're following me</em>.❞</p><p> </p><p>               The subway he took home was nearly filled, with people latching onto chrome railings bolted onto the sides of the subway cart. The strangers of different appearances were unintentionally encasing him, blocking three of the four closest exits to him. All while staring into nothingness with bored expressions on their faces. Normally, the crowd was a scene ripped straight from his nightmares. However, today he was glad because they helped him stay away from them.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot Alderson was certain the two men standing at the end of the car were following him; it could not be a coincidence that they were almost everywhere he went. They spoke among themselves, staring whilst their mouths moved slowly, it was as if they were talking about him. Elliot was forced to use his peripheral vision solely to keep track and make sure they were not reaching for something potentially dangerous hidden in their long dark trench coats. His heart raced and throat became dry. He hid carefully behind his black hoodie, his light green eyes continued to glance to the left where they stood.</p><p> </p><p>❝<em>This is about the documents. Shit, do they know I framed Terry Colby? That I deleted him the same way I deleted Ron</em>?❞</p><p> </p><p>               While remembering the ruining of a man's life with a simple hack, Elliot sat still in the uncomfortable grey seat. Because the seats of the car were relatively new, they lacked any sort of division between the appropriate spaces for any single person, it was easy for things to slide down the seat. Instead of risking having an awkward conversation with someone due to his book bag, Elliot placed it down on the dark flooring between his thin legs. Technically, he did not need the bag, as most of what he could ever want was located in any of the thousand stores scattered around the city. However, without it he would have to confront people for things. He did not want to make waves not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>               His memory went immediately to Ron's Coffee and its owner first. The Friday night about a month ago had been a mistake, a moment of vigilante justice that Elliot had done for selfish reasons that involved momentary control. A way to relieve the bitterness he felt against the fucked up world. He confronted Ron—whose real name was Rohit Mehta—with unprecedented confidence and since that day the 'spies' for the power elites were following him.</p><p> </p><p>               He had also done this to Terry Colby, the formerly powerful man unfortunately caught in the line of fire. Ever since the homeless man, who he called Mr. Robot, invited him into fsociety, Elliot had been required to help them in their digital revolution. Unfortunately, for Terry, fsociety planted evidence in the FBI investigation pointing to the former Evil Corp CTO as being the orchestrator. Those two events had caused Elliot to feel even more paranoid than before.</p><p> </p><p>               Fsociety, Allsafe, Evil Corp all these groups had caused him unprecedented levels of stress. He had not slept well in days and it showed. The bags underneath his wide eyes darkened with each day and his morphine intake had increased several levels. Elliot just needed to take some morphine right now...</p><p> </p><p>               "Excuse me," a feminine voice snapped the hacker out of his thoughts and had his attention drawn from the intense need to inhale morphine. "Hello?"</p><p> </p><p>               A confused Elliot darted his eyes to the female towering over him. They shared eye contact, as was the social norm despite his slight trembling and still racing heart. The young female had brown eyes encased in thick sweeping eyelashes. Her brown roots eventually leading into long blonde hair that was tucked neatly behind her ears. She glared at him with a certain attitude, as if somehow she was aware of who he was already. That along with the fact that she felt oddly familiar made him second guess his prefabricated response. He shifted focus to the two men again; her eyes followed his as she waited. No sound came out of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>               She watched them momentarily too then turned to him and smiled, "Excuse me; I was wondering if I can sit here?" Elliot saw how her ring adorned fingers pointed slightly to his left. "I just noticed how no one was sitting there. I've been standing for two stops now."</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot remained speechless yet again and pushed himself even further against the chrome railing. The blonde-haired woman was fit but not tiny enough to allot enough space to prevent her from touching him.</p><p> </p><p>               Her black nylon messenger bag, with the label Gucci (which made Elliot roll his eyes), was draped over her shoulder and ran down along her thigh. The dark green and red strap clung onto her shoulders but that did not prevent it from moving about freely as she walked. The probably overpriced handbag hit the top of Elliot's knee gently. Although, it did not cause an ounce of pain in his knee, she still muttered out a quick 'sorry' before planting herself down on the seat.</p><p> </p><p>               Due to the warm weather and the skin to fabric ratio distortion for women, the tiny fabric of her shorts did not cover most of her long legs. She pressed against his body, unintentionally, causing Elliot to worry the bare skin contact to his clothing would cause her smell to rub onto himself. Unlike Angela and Shayla, she did not smell like perfume. She retched of something else, not terrible but definitely not fruity.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot now remembering the spies at the end of the train balanced his focus on them and her, who now like any normal young adult or 'millennial', as the old folks would label her, was using her cell phone. She was at the top of her contacts and right above the first name, her whole name was revealed, Malena Ström; this was a stroke of luck for the hacker considering it makes it easier to find her. Why would he hack her? Or even want to find her? His head must've been wired to hack first, think rationally second.</p><p> </p><p>               Intrigued, Elliot continued to look down onto Malena. She was now on her social media platform scrolling through the meaningless photos of her friends while also ignoring messages from someone simply named M-Finn and an unknown number that were coming in. He was not sure how long he spent invading her privacy. Although, he was glad he stuck around for long, because what really struck a chord with him came after she retracted back to her home screen: her wallpaper. It reminded him of someone he knew, well, barely met. Her screensaver reminded him of Tyrell Wellick, the interim CTO at Evil Corp. Of course, this man lacked a suit and the cleanliness that the CTO had. Details essential to Tyrell's mere existence and details allowing Elliot to assure himself that it was not him. From the hack yesterday, it appeared that Tyrell did not have many, if any, friends. Let alone, any female ones.</p><p> </p><p>               Glancing just beyond her, the men were distracted within themselves. Both of them suddenly focused on today's edition of the Wall Street Journal with Terry Colby's goofy expression plastered on the front. He found this strange but again his thoughts stopped midway as he felt an elbow dig into his side and a phone slipped onto his thighs. The message was clear, written in a large bold font, stating: '<strong>ARE THEY FOLLOWING YOU</strong>?' The phone clearly belonged to Malena as they had some white earphones attached to the jack that led to her. When Elliot turned slightly to look at her, he was astounded by how relaxed she appeared to be. Her head was turned to his direction, blocking the view of the men following him. Malena's eyes held a certain warmth that made him feel just a little bit calmer. Not enough to make Elliot feel safe.</p><p> </p><p>               "Yes," Elliot whispered, grabbing the phone by the edges and giving it back to her, their hands not touching.</p><p> </p><p>               "It wasn't obvious until I sat here...At first, I thought it was towards me, but considering the fact they came in here behind you, it's most likely towards you." She proceeded to unlatch her bag to slip her phone in. Elliot saw a thin silver laptop next to a clear bottle inside. Along with a pack of cigarettes. "I can help you get away."</p><p> </p><p>❝<em>Does she work for them</em>?❞</p><p> </p><p>               He bounced his head up and down causing her to chuckle, "Follow me, Ace." She ordered. "And do not forget your bag or you'll never get it back."</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot watched as Malena put up a façade; Her eyebrow rising, lips pressed together and a hand extending in front of herself to remain sturdy. Miss Ström rose from her seat nonchalantly and swung her bag back onto her shoulder. Her face twisted into a serious expression. She acted as if danger did not exist in the same car.</p><p> </p><p>               Carefully, she walked toward the pole near the door and waited for the socially awkward Elliot to join her. He was incredibly hesitant since it appeared to be that she made him get closer to the men. (Who still strangely stopped staring at him in favor of a wrinkled newspaper.) However, he stood on the moving subway and slipped on his heavy backpack.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot approached her and grabbed the pole directly underneath her hands. She leaned into him and covered her mouth with her free hand. "The doors are supposed to close after thirty seconds but they actually close after twenty seconds. Count down to seventeen seconds and make a run for it."</p><p> </p><p>                Uncomfortable, yet hopeful, Elliot grabbed onto the pole tightly as the subway zoomed down its predestined course. The two men were behind him, maybe staring at him, maybe still distracted; Elliot couldn't be sure since he could not return the stare. He chose instead to look at the girl besides him.</p><p> </p><p>               Her mouth moved as she sung along quietly to the music on the phone to the sound. The bright screen of her cell phone displayed an album cover for the band, Queen. A tiny yet beautiful font spelled out the words Hot Space.</p><p> </p><p>               Malena seemed so confident, unafraid about what people might thing about her senseless mumbling. He was incredibly jealous about that; the lack of care of people's opinions. Elliot hadn't realized he did not stop staring at her until the doors slid open and people made their way in and out. They both counted together to seventeen seconds before running out the car. The men panicked as they realized their mistake, pushing roughly against the doorway. The train began moving before they could get out as well.</p><p> </p><p>               Standing in the middle of the busy station, the pair stood directly in front of each other. Elliot realizing now that Malena had an above average height, a height that allowed her to almost face evenly with himself. "Uhh," he spoke as he tried his best to appear relaxed and not guarded like he actually was. It didn't make sense to him that she helped him—a total stranger—when those men seemed to be working for the people with real power. People who can destroy lives, the guys who play god. No random stranger would put themselves in that much risk for someone.</p><p> </p><p>               "Is this far from your stop?" she replied.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>               He shrugged. Allsafe wasn't far and he always managed to walk fast, but he wasn't going to tell her that. Instead he asked, "Why did you help?"</p><p> </p><p>               "I was jealous of the attention, or lack thereof." She explained in a honeyed voice, a small teasing smile plastered on her face. Elliot didn't laugh or understand the sarcasm. "Joking..." she whispered, "Well, uh, nice meeting you, Ace."</p><p> </p><p>               "It's Elliot." He corrected. Her face twisted to a confused expression but she said nothing about what befuddled her.</p><p> </p><p>               "I like Ace better, it definitely suits you." He didn't reply causing her to sigh, "Yeah, and as for me, I'm Malena." She shook her own hand. "Nice to meet you too...So, Elliot, where were you going?"</p><p> </p><p>               "Work."</p><p> </p><p>               "And where is work? Are you a spy? Working retail at one of those fancy hipster places? You look a little more like a Bloomingdales self-loathing employee. If so, just know I'm temporarily avoiding that place." He did not reply, still untrusting of her. She adjusted the strap on the bag and rolled her eyes, "Christ. Well, uh, I guess this is the last you'll see me and, uh, by the way you're welcome."</p><p> </p><p>               He shifted slightly.</p><p> </p><p>               Knowing he wasn't going to reply, she spun around on her heel and left, taking the stairs up to the surface. Elliot stood there for a while. The wind from the train moving along the other side hit his body gently. He had never been in a situation where a random stranger had been kind enough to help. It gave him faith towards society. However, the back of his head reminded him—there's always a catch. No one can be good without having something evil or bad somewhere else.</p><p> </p><p>❝<em>Malena Ström. Is she good or bad?</em>❞</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hot Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               Shortly after her departure, the subway cart zoomed past him, blowing a rotten stench directly into his nostrils. His nose crinkled at the first whiff, his tired green eyes shut, and his lips parted slightly to inhale deeply before he would ultimately try to hold his breath. Disgusting. The repulsion evident on his tanned face was considerably odd due to his status as a resident of the city. However, the prolonged exposure to the relatively new smell from the pretty girl caused a temporary shift in his internal system. His nostrils sought that powerful smell.</p><p> </p><p>               He cursed himself for not allotting her the space, for not standing up, hiding behind someone tall and handling the problem himself. It was truly awful that he accidentally corrected her and revealed his real name, not his ever-changing pseudo name that he gave strangers or future hacking subjects. If she were truly a bad girl the revelation of his name would give fuel to Tyrell Wellick. The Swedish CTO was more than enough of a hassle already. Plus, her random nickname, Ace, was it a reference to the tragically forgotten Alan Turing? Did she think Elliot was worthy of comparison?</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot Alderson spent the first five minutes of what was supposed to be a fifteen-minute walk consumed by thoughts about Malena. She did not seem technologically adept. Not only did she keep water near what was presumably her laptop, from the subway ride, it did not seem as if she cared about people looking over shoulder for her password. If she worked for Evil Corp it was likely she was new or, at least, an intern.</p><p> </p><p>               Malena Ström was a mystery, a mystery that should stay unsolved. For now, he had too much on his plate with his life, fsociety, and the guilt from setting up the innocent idiot, Terry Colby. He couldn't continue thinking about her. About seven minutes into the route toward Allsafe Cybersecurity, he was concerned with whether he should snitch on Fernando Vera or not.</p><p> </p><p>               But that ended quickly. All because of a distinct black nylon messenger bag sprawled on the concrete. A bag that happened to collide with his feet. Elliot recognized the bag.</p><p> </p><p>❝<em>Shit</em>. ❞</p><p> </p><p>               His green eyes stared blankly for a moment before hesitantly removing the hood from his head. He found it impossible for Malena to have dropped the expensive bag without noticing. Which meant that unless something bad happened, this should still be in her care. He did not want to pick it up but... she did help him. The least he could do was return the favor. The young man quickly bent over and lifted the surprisingly heavy bag up by its long single strap. The curiosity thickened as his eyes caught a vision of something else. Underneath the bag, once it was lifted, long white earphones lay tangled on top of a phone. This definitely belonged to her.</p><p> </p><p>               Still holding the bag in the air, he leaned down to grab the device. To his surprise, the screen automatically turned on when flipped over. The bright screen revealing her music was still playing. Curiously, it was the exact same band as before with a different song. Save Me. Was this a message? Or just cruel irony? He held his breath, hoping to calm his racing heart and clenched his teeth. She was likely in danger. Just like he was before. Oh, how he prayed his paranoia was just playing games on him.</p><p> </p><p>               However, a few seconds later he finally heard the voice that would confirm his suspicions: "How did you find me? Stop. No," he recognized the voice; its once soft tone now aggressive. "Stop."</p><p> </p><p>               His heart thumped violently against his chest and he worried that soon he would succumb to cardiac arrest. His sweaty fingers pulled the bag over his shoulder as he peeked around the corner. Elliot's green eyes widened when he saw two men in black suits not too far from the main street with Malena Ström.</p><p> </p><p>               Appearance wise, the two men were opposites. One of them had red colored hair with sharp blue colored eyes. His lower face covered by light stubble that matched his hair. While his body gave off the old-school strongman vibe, which might have been the reason he had the job of holding onto her. The other had dark tanned skin with dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair. Kidnapper two had a less physically built body than henchman number one; however, he did not need to be because all he did was stand with a hand at the SUV door ready to close the door at a moment's notice.</p><p> </p><p>               The ginger had his hands around her thin torso, lifting her up enough so that her black boots to avoid touching the concrete floor. His hands placed haphazardly, accidentally lifting her shirt. Elliot gawked at the struggling girl, noticing she was much thinner than he had originally made her out to be. Elliot made out a marking on her hip—from its dark color likely a tattoo—but due to her wriggling and the twisting, he could not determine what it was.</p><p> </p><p>               "Jag behöver dig just nu." A masculine voice spoke from inside the car. "Snälla du."</p><p> </p><p>               His eyebrows knit together and his eyes squinted at the sound. Several questions flowed through his paranoid head. Like: what language was that? The biggest, heaviest one, however, was whether he should help defuse the situation or not.</p><p> </p><p>               The amount of confidence he needed was the same amount it took to confront Rohit Mehta. But Elliot was self-aware about his condition. He was an absurdly skinny fragile man whose appearance did not spark any sense of fright or intimidation in another person. He knew intervening would only put himself in possibly severe danger. He continued to watch the scene, waiting. Now a pale muscular left arm emerged from the dark SUV. A long-sleeve blue shirt and a black expensive looking leather watch covered it. Long fingers clamped around the loop in her shorts and the glare from the sun shined against a silver ring settling on his ring finger. He either was married or kept a ring on the wrong finger. Could that be her husband?</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot saw the resemblance from the entire situation to his own moment yesterday. Of course, Malena had been more vocal in her resistance against the kidnappers than he was. Plus her kidnapping had been more discreet, in a shady lonesome alley, a place opposite of Times Square. Yet it still was too eerily similar. However, the possible connection was snipped quickly. The license plates did not match, the car types were different, and the henchmen were incredibly different. Although he did not know if the car was going to take her to Evil Corp, the vehicle door holder had an exposed tag clipped onto the pocket of his shirt. Evil Corp.</p><p> </p><p>               The mysterious hand moved from her the loop in her jean shorts to the wrist of Malena Ström's right hand. The burly man holding her aided the unknown person by shoving her into that direction. She did not stand a chance to escape as now two people were forcing her tiny frame into the vehicle. In what was a few seconds, the door shut and the two henchmen were entering their respective seats inside the car. Elliot decided it was best to try to act now—save the girl who saved him. Was that the reason she helped him? She wished someone would return the same kindness. Save me, the song said. So, that's what Elliot tried to do.</p><p> </p><p>               He shoved the phone into his pocket and took a deep breath before ultimately turning into the alley. Elliot kept his head low, pulling his hood up and ran his fingers nervously over it to set it in place as he hurriedly walked to the car. However, he noticed it was also coming closer. Elliot was only a few feet from the car when it honked loudly at him yet continued to run through. Forcing him to jump out of the way as the car left.</p><p> </p><p>               He was too late.</p><p> </p><p>               The hacker leaned against the dirty building; he pulled out her cell phone, placed it into airplane mode, and tucked it into his pocket. Elliot without a doubt was going to hack her now but that was a private matter. No one could know what he had in store for later. He quickly removed his oversized book-bag and shoved her purse inside.</p><p> </p><p>               After securing the bags, he surveyed the area. No one had seen what happened, or even remotely stood nearby to witness the daytime kidnapping.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot Alderson was the only witness.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>               Immediately upon returning home from work, Elliot Alderson shut and locked the red door behind him. It closed with a loud snap; trapping him inside the studio apartment that felt like his own personal hell.</p><p> </p><p>               After tossing his hoodie onto the round shaped dinner table, Elliot carefully placed his keys onto the rack near the door. Then he tapped a button on the wall that caused the light, which likely necessitated replacement due to its dimness, to flicker on. Not long after, he progressed further into the apartment and rested his book-bag gently on the end of the couch near his fish, Qwerty.</p><p> </p><p>Elliot had an overwhelming sense of emptiness as he stood still in the middle of his studio apartment. The walls entrapped him inside causing him to realize that he could be doomed to a lifetime of alienation. Alone. Forever alone. Stuck standing on the outside, knowing almost everything about a person, yet unable to form a connection. He was fundamentally broken, missing that essential trait that prevented this exact situation from happening. However, that sinking feeling vanished with the sensation of paws hitting his lower legs.</p><p> </p><p>His green eyes met with dark brown ones. Belonging to an adorable black Cairn terrier named Flipper. She was rescued—or rather, forcefully taken—from a despicable man named Michael Hanson, who was a prime example of what's wrong with the world today. Michael was the reason Elliot justified his nighttime vigilante hacking and ruining lives. The puppy was constantly abused due to her not being trained and soiling herself in the worst areas possible. Like pillows, beds, and anything other than the floor. Elliot didn't care though. He took Flipper away from the dick to protect the innocent little dog. Flipper helped him feel less lonely. He liked Flipper.</p><p> </p><p>He reached for the dog food stored on the counter and grabbed an old cup to scoop out an appropriate amount. Elliot poured the food into the bowl before placing it on the floor. Flipper wiggled her tail eagerly as she dipped her head into the silver bowl. He ran his hands gently over her soft black fur, a small smile forming on his face.</p><p> </p><p>Allowing Flipper to eat calmly, he walked around the coffee table over to his desk. He sat in his worn chair positioned perfectly in the middle of the dual monitor setup. Turning on the monitor, he could not cease thinking about Malena. A part of him convinced that she worked for Evil Corp and he had fallen perfectly into their elaborate plan. He took her purse. That was a mistake. The first mistake he had committed in a long, long time.</p><p> </p><p>He fished for the phone from his book bag in the secure pocket he'd personally woven into the lining. It long stopped playing music and the tiny airplane symbol still remained on the top left corner of the screen. He felt hesitant to remove it. What if she had an application installed to give her the location as soon as the internet connected? So, he instead—for his own sanity—decided to keep it on.</p><p> </p><p>As the phone tipped the screen came to life allowing him to observe the screensaver. A photograph of Malena riding on the back of a man. No, boy, he looked young, just about her age. They (or rather, he) stood on a balcony in the conveniently right spot to view the great view of the Eiffel Tower behind them. The two appeared perfect from their looks, posture, to the undeniable happiness. Elliot rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>❝<em>They all lie. It's simple to do online. Pretend they have happy perfect little lives, just to impress people who don't fucking care</em>.❞</p><p> </p><p>The phone did not have a passcode. Of fucking course.</p><p> </p><p>The phone immediately opened to the last application she had used. Notes. The familiar question glaring back at him in a taunting manner: <strong>ARE THEY FOLLOWING YOU?</strong></p><p> </p><p>❝<em>Did she think they were following her? Is that what she meant? Do they follow her too</em>?❞</p><p> </p><p>Elliot glanced over his shoulder, his eyes directed to the microwave on top of the fridge. It would take less than two minutes to end this entire problem right now. Just put the phone in the microwave and activate it. Then put the purse in a trash somewhere far away from his apartment. It could all go away... Malena Ström could completely disappear from his life in less than an hour.</p><p> </p><p>Yet he didn't put the phone down.</p><p> </p><p>               Something about her entranced him. Fuck, it sounded cliché; it was cliché. He wouldn't be able to tell anyone either. They'd think he lacked brain cells. A pretty girl does something nice for him once and suddenly all forms of rational thinking evaded his mind.</p><p> </p><p>               The phone trembled in his hands as he decided to snoop into the messages. She had a few unread in the application. All coming from the Finn person. They were romantic partners for a short time now. From just about the beginning of the year to now, which is only a few months. They lived together in an apartment in the East Village. Not to far from him, actually.</p><p> </p><p>               But he found nothing through messages regarding the possible kidnapping. All her information regarded her romance, even then, it seemed like Malena had nothing of true importance stored in the phone. What did she do to anger Evil Corp? Therefore, he only had two options; either look her up the usual way or activate the internet on the phone.</p><p> </p><p>The led monitor loaded up the blank desktop. The dull blue wallpaper shined against his tan skin. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He felt an unprecedented sense of guilt over electing to hack her personal accounts. Still he continued to load his browser, quickly and unapologetically, typing her name into the search bar. This gave him the results he wanted almost immediately. The first result a link to an Instagram page. His mouse hovered over the blue letters. Should he do this? He still had time to change his mind.</p><p> </p><p>No. Nope. He couldn't do that. Not with the knowledge that someone from Evil Corp kidnapped her.</p><p> </p><p>In a matter of seconds, the page loaded. Malena Freyja Ström with her picture in an icon on the left. Her biography reading; A S&amp;F Birdie living in America w/her bf. She only had a few photographs available for public view. Most of them of herself in various locations. Other times just photos of her "daddies". Vincent and Heath. He wasn't sure who was who. Nor did he care. On May 9th from the year prior, she posted a birthday photo with her now-boyfriend. They rested on the grass. Her head on his lap as he took their photo. Both pretending to be perfect. 'Swedish buddies. Thanks Matthias for coming to my 22nd bday.'</p><p> </p><p>Elliot decided against the brute force attack method of getting into her accounts. Instead using a password-wordlist creating tool in the Kali Linux operating system. It took a while, definitely longer than normal but he did find it...eventually.</p><p> </p><p>FiNnViNNyHeatH1023!</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, he couldn't be bothered with the intimate details of her private life. This girl meant nothing to him. Therefore, the people and the date in the password didn't matter to him.</p><p> </p><p>All he wanted to know was why someone from Evil Corp was taking her.</p><p> </p><p>Elliot found that Malena did often receive automated passive-aggressive emails from a man named Anwar who worked at Evil Corp. A monthly reminder to check the physical mail that kept being sent to her home address. It seemed like that could be it, but fuck... she worked for a radio station that belonged to Evil Corp. It made sense that they would communicate with her constantly. Other times they sent a newsletter with daily notifications of the achievements from the conglomerate.</p><p> </p><p>It took thirty minutes of rifling through meaningless information to find anything close to being related to Evil Corp. But, eventually, he found it, the possible reason behind the kidnapping. A man named Silvanus. The reasoning behind this act wasn't ever explicitly explained online by either person. Probably purposely done by Silvanus to avoid having any private, serious information easily accessible online. However, in his search, he did discover two interesting details about Malena.</p><p> </p><p>One, she is a fucking heiress. A member of the group of people he hated. Two, she had access to all Evil Corp facilities including Steel Mountain. The person who gave her this permission was unknown. Likely someone who she knew only in person.</p><p> </p><p>After learning everything possible, he decided to run the information into a CD. He loaded the blank disk inside the desktop. Then began downloading the information he gathered into the disk. Tomorrow he would visit her home, return her belongings, and figure out how to get her to agree to go to Coney Island.</p><p> </p><p>Elliot deleted the files before retrieving the disk. With a black permanent marker, he scribbled down the album and artist that related the song she sung earlier. Queen - <em>Hot Space.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(Season One. Episode Two.) Eps1.1 ones and zeroes.mpeg</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Do you ever Think you Deserved It?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>               Elliot simply could not find it in himself to trust her.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how hard he tried, he could not elude the thick unshakeable feeling that strangled him like a boa constrictor, slowly and inescapably, tightening around his neck until it took all his breath away. He wanted desperately to think that she helped him on her own terms, that along with his childhood friend, Angela Moss, she was one of the good ones, a virtuous human being who went out of her way to help someone clearly in danger. Yet the negative thoughts about Malena kept invading his mind, begging desperately to be acknowledged.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't crazy to believe that Malena wasn't acting upon kindness alone. It was realistic. What if she did something horrifying to cause her to be entangled in Evil Corp? It's possible.</p><p> </p><p>Seriously, he'd be a certifiable lunatic to dismiss any of her many, many connections to Evil Corp as mere coincidences. Elliot kept reviewing the facts: Malena, twenty-three in May, foreign, has clearance to all Evil Corp facilitates. The what-ifs gnawed at him. The unanswered questions that were not available online, that he had to fish in-person for. With Evil Corp behind her, he had to be several steps ahead. He had act realistically.</p><p> </p><p>However, he'd be a liar if he didn't admit to having any ulterior motives. His psychiatrist, Krista Gordon, continuously urged him to participate in uncomfortable situations. To him, that meant pushing beyond his tiny comfort zone, talking to people. Today, that meant taking a sixteen-minute journey to her East Village apartment, instead of communicating online. Elliot decided that just this once, he would attempt to take control of the situation. He couldn't save the world without control.</p><p> </p><p>That task would prove difficult though.</p><p> </p><p>The vigilante hacker inside of him wanted her to join fsociety. Mostly, because of her striking similarities to a security defect. However, his regular side (whatever that may be) kept casting doubt. Did he want to drag Malena Ström into his dangerous world? Was he willing to destroy her life? If this hack happened, anyone involved could be held accountable. Any mistake could lead to devastating consequences.</p><p> </p><p>               Still Elliot Alderson found himself outside their door. Nerves churning the inside of his stomach and hand shaking as he raised it to knock. He knocked once, softly, but before repeating the action, a heavy weight settled upon his shoulders, pulling him backwards. "Tillbaka av."</p><p> </p><p>               "Huh?" Elliot mumbled, turning on his heel, finding himself standing in front of Matthias Finn. He had on a plaid shirt with a torn white shirt underneath. Along with a pair of dark jeans with holes that Elliot knew was purposely put there. He had light stubble on his face and uncombed hair. Finn had rings, the same amount as Malena. But he definitely wasn't the man from the Evil Corp car yesterday.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot felt the touch of each finger on his shoulder through his sweater. It felt unbearable and hot, even after Finn released it. </p><p>               "You've got the wrong door buddy." He warned as he dusted his hands off. An act probably meant to offend Elliot.</p><p> </p><p>               "Malena," He murmured a simple word that caused Finn, and the world it felt, to stop completely. "I'm friends with Malena Ström. I'm... returning her purse," he lifted the bag from its hiding place in his hoodie and instinctively flinched when Finn reached over to retrieve it. "Personally."</p><p> </p><p>               Finn huffed, clearly annoyed, "Lena should be home from work." He fished out keys from his pants to unlock the door. Elliot moved out of the way, only moving again after Finn unlocked the apartment. Inside he shut the door gently behind him, noting the aroma that hung onto Malena belonged to her beau. Finn spun around to face Elliot. "Our room is that way," he pointed to his left, "only door on the left, just past the living room. Knock. Wait for a reply. I'll be close by." He was not sure what that comment meant; did Finn think Elliot was here seeking a booty call? He shook his head, unwilling to think about their profoundly strange private life any further.</p><p> </p><p>          With those words, Finn walked to the other side of the apartment dropping a guitar case on the floor before disappearing around the corner. Elliot stood still for a moment, feeling more hesitation to involve her. She had a relationship, someone who loved her. Unfortunately, this activity will cause some distance between them to increase. It didn't matter, he reasoned. The relationship was safe. Isn't that a saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot quietly moved to his right, following the instructions given and wound up at the door. He forgot all about what Finn said and simply entered the room. He wasn't sure whether to shut the door or not. So, he left it ajar.</p><p> </p><p>               "Salut," The silvery voice greeted.</p><p> </p><p>               "Hey." He replied, weakly, standing near the door, uncertain of his next move.</p><p> </p><p>               The uncertainty originated from the fail of acknowledgement from Malena Ström. Focused on her collection of vinyl records, particularly this large tattered cardboard box packed to the brim with them. She knelt on the floor next to an enormous bookcase sheltering the rest of her collection. "Matthias, look what my daddy found." She lifted a pristine record of a 1965 album simply named Help with four signatures marking its front. "He found it in his dad's storage."</p><p> </p><p>               Malena finally turned toward the hacker near the doorway upon receiving no response. To his surprise, when locking eyes a child-like smile appeared on her face. No surprise or shock, almost as if seeing a distressed stranger, who she only met once on the subway, in her home, didn't faze her at all. "Hello, Ace. You're looking cute today. Are you trying to upstage me? In my own home? Wow."</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot felt confused because Malena did look pretty, compared to him. Donning a loose navy blue sweater with a stark white shirt poking out from underneath. Both articles of clothing tucked into a matching plaid skirt. He didn't say anything of course. He couldn't jump into that rabbit hole. Instead, Elliot approached the foot of her bed, placing the purse onto the comforter. "I found your bag yesterday." He murmured. "I'm here to return it." Also, to recruit you to fsociety, you know the people who ruined Terry Colby's life.</p><p> </p><p>               "I can't believe—T-Thank you. You're the best."</p><p> </p><p>               He awkwardly stood there waiting for his brain to reply to the compliment. It could not. Malena returned focus onto that stupid, rare, probably expensive record. Help! She gripped the edges with the tips of her fingers before carefully slipping it into a thick white frame. Elliot looked to the record, focusing on its title. It felt like the last piece of evidence in the debate between his inner hacker and his desperate-to-be-normal side.</p><p> </p><p>               "I know a lot about you," He said in a tone creepier than intended.</p><p> </p><p>               She laughed, "Oh, do you?"</p><p> </p><p>               "I know about you and Silas."</p><p> </p><p>               "Silas?" Elliot bobbed his head, despite not truly knowing Silas' last name.</p><p> </p><p>               Upon saying that, she did stand up, only to put the record upright on the nightstand. "How?" she asked, calmly.</p><p> </p><p>               He maneuvered around the messy room so that he could stand in front of her. The whole time trying to muster up all the confidence available, the same amount he had when speaking to Ron. His light green eyes focused on Malena as he kept trying to suppress his internal panic. If she noticed his clenched fists, she'd know about the fear and anxiety stored inside of his fragile body. "I hacked you."</p><p> </p><p>               Malena looked at him, "That's illegal, Elliot. You can't just—"</p><p> </p><p>               "I'm not the only one." He interrupted. "But I'm not malicious like most of them... I saw what happened yesterday. That car from Evil Corp picked you up. They took you." From this close distance, he noticed how her neck had distinct discoloration. It was a faint combination of blue and purple. "You did something. You pissed off the wrong person."</p><p> </p><p>               "That's a lot of work. Are you trying something? Finn won't appreciate it. He isn't keen on, uh, sharing. He hated having to share with his brother."</p><p> </p><p>               He shook his head, hoping to forget that piece of information. "No. I want you to join me. We only want to enter Steel Mountain. I know you can help."</p><p> </p><p>               She thought about it for a few seconds, an ugly pause overwhelming the room. "That's all you want me to do. Get you into the impenetrable Steel Mountain." Elliot gestured in agreement. "Okay. When do you want my services?"</p><p> </p><p>               "Now," He replied.</p><p> </p><p>               "What?" She put her hands on her hips, "I was in the middle of this." She pointed at the pile of Vinyl's on the floor. "How about you help me with this before we go to um, to—" she stopped suddenly, unsure on how to continue.</p><p> </p><p>               "Meet Mr. Robot at Coney Island." He clarified.</p><p> </p><p>               "Yes, meet Mr. Robot at Coney Island. How about it?"</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot Alderson reluctantly agreed.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>               Mr. Robot made himself a prevalent figure in Elliot Alderson's life, whether they acknowledged it or not—life for Elliot became more than being an employee during the day and a vigilante hacker at night. Soon moral choices and the fate of the world rested on his fingertips, and the plan to remove the data from Steel Mountain by blowing up the pipeline would be used unless an alternative was agreed upon.</p><p> </p><p>               It was all because of him.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot could not understand why or how fsociety found him. Why this man—who he still thinks is homeless—was connected to a group of hacker geniuses. Or why he was such a valued member despite his limited days spent with the group. This old man and group presented many mysterious questions of which he would never ask.</p><p> </p><p>               Even the headquarters provided a layer of mystery to the situation. Fsociety operated inside the defunct Fun Society Arcade in Coney Island on the boardwalk. The front entrance stayed sealed with metal shutters with graffiti tags on them. Just above that, lay the marquee, which lost two letters leaving behind the letters spelling: f - society arcade. The unattractive, abandoned outside made it unlikely anyone would ever suspect it still had occupants.</p><p> </p><p>               The inside still had all the old machines that Romero (sort-of owner and fellow hacker) let them use free. He even secretly wired the electricity that ran the machines inside of the building from the other businesses on the boardwalk. Elliot discovered that the real owner was murdered in 2014. He wasn't sure how Romero came into possession of it.</p><p> </p><p>               However, a new plan had emerged with the strange turn of events, which would allow him to reestablish himself with fsociety. With all the information she now knew, to stay ahead of her, they couldn't reject Malena. He worried they would, though.</p><p> </p><p>               "Do you think I should get some food?" Malena asked upon noticing the Nathan's Hot Dog near the pier. "I don't think I should but I know I have to eat."</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot shrugged his shoulders. Although he had enjoyed their Vinyl activity, it still did not mean they were suddenly friends. "Um, are you gonna want some?" He shook his head and with that, she left him, hesitantly running off to get some food.</p><p> </p><p>               He kept walking straight until he saw from the corner of his eye Mr. Robot. The older man sat on a railing above the rocky beach reading a yellow-colored hardcover book aloud. Elliot approached him, sat next to the man, and after a demand from Mr. Robot, recounted the tragedy that was his father; a genius taken by Leukemia and the best friend lost by betrayal. Although, he did not show his pain on the outside, he felt wounded by the vague memory. He loved his father and feared for his deteriorating health. Therefore, found it necessary to tell his mother. Yet Elliot unknowingly threw away their relationship, as his father never trusted him again. Instead, Mr. Alderson accidentally pushed him out the window. They never recovered.</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot refused to let this upsetting memory break him. He found light in the positive of this situation; the fact that Mr. Robot would allow him back into the group.</p><p> </p><p>               Mr. Robot put on his aviator glasses before rubbing Elliot on the back. Aware the memory hurt the younger man badly. ❝I understand what it's like to lose a parent. It's heartbreaking... Did you ever think he was right? ❞</p><p> </p><p>               "About what?" Elliot asked as he inhaled on the cigarette, the toxic smoke filling his lungs. He wished for the conversation to end so he could bring up the plan. He wanted to speak about something else, something more blonde-haired and Swedish.</p><p> </p><p>               Mr. Robot simply looked over at him and stated, ❝Hurting you that day? For what you did to him? Do you ever think you deserved it? ❞</p><p> </p><p>               "I didn't do anything to him. I was trying to help him." He retorted. Young Elliot was worried and scared, wanting his father to survive. However, all it did was hurt him. Thinking about it now, Elliot's loneliness might've began there.</p><p> </p><p>               ❝For betraying his trust. ❞</p><p> </p><p>               "I was eight years old—"</p><p> </p><p>               Elliot felt the once gentle hand push him forward causing him to lose his balance and tumble below. Against any logic, he flailed his limbs as he dropped, this movement not helping him preserve his body as it crashed against the jagged rocks causing agonizing pain. Of which, could have been worse without his drugs. Luckily, his head narrowly managed to avoid full impact with a rock and instead merely scraped against one before landing on the grainy sand. His eyes shut upon landing and a moan of pain escaped his lips.</p><p> </p><p>❝You didn't commit to the sacred pact you formed. ❞</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>*</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Convinced Malena abandoned him, Elliot felt engulfed by a familiar feeling that he refused to let out inside of the hospital room. Yet upon feeling the first teardrop leave his eyes, the rest continued uninhibited. He felt that horrible sensation again. Alone, he was, alone.</p><p> </p><p>❝<em>I guess I should've known</em>. ❞  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(Season One. Episode Two.) Eps1.1 ones and zeroes.mpeg &amp; (Season One. Episode Three.) eps1.2_d3bug.mkv</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- ❝hello, friend.❞ &lt;-- Elliot's inner monologue / Mr. Robot speaking are going to be in the thicker quotation marks to avoid confusion. Monologue said to his imaginary friend is also in italic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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